Heels
by redseeker
Summary: Megatron appreciates Starscream's thrusters.


AN: This is a re-upload of an old fic.

* * *

He's on his back across Megatron's lap, in Megatron's ridiculous throne. It's kind of awkward and uncomfortable, and he supports himself on his elbows on one chair arm, his foot wedged against the other. His other foot is in Megatron's hands, held up so Starscream's leg is bent at a rather acute angle. The tyrant has an uncharacteristic – and downright unsettling – look on his face. It's almost... _fond_. Starscream grimaces and watches the older mech carefully.

Megatron's holding Starscream's foot in an unusually gentle grip, broad fingers trailing over the curved arch, pointed toe, elegant heel... Starscream snorts and says with a sharp, sneering grin, "I didn't know you had a thing for stabilising servos."

Megatron shoots him a dark look, and Starscream remembers that the tyrant still has his fusion cannon attached to his arm. Now is not the time to get too lippy. His grin softens into an oily smile. "Hey, I'm not judging... my lord. Hey!"

Megatron had given the top of Starscream's heel turbine a rough pinch. "These are sensitive, are they?" Megatron says, his voice deep and silky. Starscream scowls. Megatron runs his fingers down the length of the heel, making Starscream squirm in his leader's lap. "I should have known, really. You seekers are really built like pleasure models-"

"You watch your mouth-! ...Uh, _sir_..." Starscream grimaces again. He knows he treads a fine line, knows that Megatron tolerates his insubordination only so long as he remains useful, or amusing. He has to bite his lip, though, when he watches Megatron lean forward a little and press a kiss to the inside of his ankle. Megatron looks his way again, his darkened red optics just _infuriatingly_ smug. He watches keenly as the bigger mech closes those optics and returns his full attention to the downward curve of Starscream's foot, trailing languid, open-mouthed kisses down the insole. Starscream shifts again, his aft rubbing against one of Megatron's thighs. One of Megatron's hands is stroking the jet's heel thruster again, and Starscream lets out a rather embarrassing noise. Smirking, Megatron circles his fingertip around the edge of the turbine. Starscream mewls again and unconsciously fires up his thrusters a little, generating a little heat but not enough propulsion to do more than jerk him back a bit. Megatron tightens his hold on the jet's foot as a warning. Then he thrusts two fingers into the turbine itself.

Starscream yelps and tries to kick, but Megatron has always been stronger than him, and he refuses to let go. "What the slag are you doing?" Starscream hisses.

Megatron gives a beatific smile. "I just wanted to try this out," he replies. He pushes his fingers in a little further, and Starscream curls his clawed fingers, making slim scratch marks on the inside of the throne's arm.

"Careful," Starscream says. He powers up that thruster just a fraction more. "It'll take your fingers off."

"Now why would you do something like that, Starscream?" Megatron says, sounding every bit the disappointed teacher admonishing a wayward student. "To your beloved leader?"

Starscream growls quietly and lets his thrusters power down, though they still generate some heat. His whole system is running hot, there's nothing he can do about that. That's all Megatron's fault.

His intakes falter when Megatron removes his fingers, repositions Starscream's foot a little, and replaces them with his glossa.

"Ah! What-? Are you insane? Mm that's nice though..." Starscream grits his sharp dentals and screws his optics shut, cursing himself and his leader at once. He lifts one hand from the throne's arm and brings it to Megatron's chest, raking his claws over the brand in the centre, taking his small revenge by leaving a mark. He feels Megatron tense, and when he looks up his leader has drawn back and is giving him a dark look that isn't quite all hostile. Next thing he knows he's being manhandled until he's kneeling on the floor, pushed face down onto the throne with Megatron behind him, one hand on the top of his wing and the other wrenching his pelvic plating open. The jet laughs. "Surrendering your throne to me, my lord?"

"Not a chance," Megatron growls as he slips his jack inside.


End file.
